A Cat's Skin
by Staphyloplasty
Summary: A retelling of a story from Grimm's Fairy Tales called Cat-skin. There is a bit of a dark theme(duh) where a guy wants to marry his own daughter so be warned. If you couldn't handle that, DON'T READ! Okay. I would really appreciate any reviews you could give me! Any feedback would be amazing! Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

"Promise me, that you won't remarry unless she is as beautiful as me and has golden hair like me," the ill queen pleaded with her husband.

"Of course," he promised, unsure of how'd find anyone with beauty that matched his young wife's.

Not long after his wife died. He was left alone with their young daughter.

"Don't worry Papa," his daughter told him. "We'll be alright."

The king wasn't sure he'd ever be alright again. His kingdom needed a queen and his daughter, a mother. His advisers were pressuring him to remarry, but he didn't know where to look. No one could be as beautiful as his wife.

His daughter, Abbigail, sighed. "How much have you looked?"

The king cast his eyes downward. "I haven't yet."

"You have to search even just a little before you give up." Abbigail touched her father's arm. "Promise me you'll start a search for a new queen, Papa."

"I promise." He did keep his promise. He had his men search every kingdom for a princess as beautiful as his late wife, but he couldn't find a single one beautiful enough to come close to her.

The king didn't know what he would tell his daughter. He found her in the garden, admiring the roses and butterflies flitting around.

"Honey," the king called,"we have to talk."

"What is it, Papa?" His daughter asked, sitting on a bench beside him. The sun shone down, making her golden hair shine. The king admired his daughter in the full light of day. She was as beautiful as her mother, looking more like her every day. A thought occurred to him. Why couldn't he just marry his daughter?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, sorry about the lack of new material. I've been going through a rough bought of depression and that slows down the writing. Sorry! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

The king consulted his advisers about his new plan. In all honesty, they were horrified. The audacity the king displayed was appalling to them. A man marrying his own daughter was an abomination in the eyes of the church and the entire kingdom. It would not be allowed.

The king simply did not care. He asked his daughter what she thought.

Abbigail stared at him dumbfounded before she started laughing. "Real funny, Papa."

"Abbigail, I am not joking. I am serious."

 _What?_ Abbigail thought to herself. _He can't really be serious. What kind of sick joke is this?_ Abbigail needed to nip this craziness in the bud before her dad did something really really stupid.

"Well, I couldn't marry anyone unless he gave me a dress as golden as the sun, a dress as silver as the moon, and a dress that glowed like the stars." Would that be enough Abbigail wondered? She better do something her father really couldn't accomplish. "Also, he'd need to hunt down every animal in the kingdom and make me a cloak out of every single animal's skin." There, that ought to do it.

"Alright." Her father left her in peace to sit in the gardens and wonder what had just happened.

Abbigail had never been very close to her parent's. She was raised by a governess and hadn't had much interaction with her parent's during her childhood, but had never expected something like this. Did her father seriously think he could marry her? The thought of it made Abbigail sick. She's better go talk to her father's chief adviser.

Her father's chief adviser, Trence, had been much more involved in Abbigail's life than even her mother. He married Abbigail's governess when Abbigail was quite young, but that caused him to come around more than her parent's. She wanted a marriage just like theirs, full of love and romance.

Wandering the halls of the castle, Abbigail searched for her father's office. Trence could usually be found around her father's office. The halls were stone covered in ornate ornaments and draperies. Small tables held flowers and there were plenty of storage rooms and guest rooms for their neighboring royalty. Abbigail made her way to her father's office to find Trence waiting inside. Her father was nowhere to be found. He was probably at his wife's grave, where he spent most of his free time.

"Abbigail," Trence said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to talk to you about my father's strange plans of marrying me."

Trence sighed. "So he really asked you did he? We told him to drop it, but I guess he didn't listen. What did you tell him?"

Abbigail took a seat in front of her father's desk. "I told him that I needed a dress that was as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and one that shone like the stars. I also told him that I needed a cloak made of every single animal skin in our kingdom just for good measure."

Trence sat beside her. "That was smart. Maybe now he will drop it. We can only hope."


	3. Chapter 3

A few months had passed since Abbigail's father had asked her to marry him. She spent most of her time in lessons and in the garden's, enjoying the sunshine and flowers. Her father didn't bring up the marriage proposal again. Not to Abbigail or to his advisers. Trence had told her that the king must've dropped the issue and they were still searching for a princess as beautiful as the late queen, but had little luck.

Abbigail was unsure whether her father had dropped the subject. She decided one morning to confront her father directly on the matter. She found her father by her mother's grave. He had brought a single white rose to place on the grave.

"Father," Abbigail called. Her father looked up to see her and smiled. "I was hoping to talk to you."

"Go on," her father beckoned.

"Well, I was just wondering if you found a princess that matches Mother's beauty."

"As of yet we have only found one." Her father smiled. "You."

Abbigail sighed. "You know you can't marry me Father. Your advisers and the church simply wouldn't allow it." Abbigail sat beside him in front of her mother's grave.

"I don't see why my advisers can control my life and whom I marry. God has presented me with an option, so why would he frown upon it?" Her dad thought aloud.

"Because Father, marrying one's child is just not done. It's ghastly." A slight breeze blew the Abbigail's golden hair in front of her eyes.

"I miss your mother dearly."

"I miss her too Father. You just need time to heal the wound in your heart. It's too soon to think about marrying again," Abbigail suggested.

The king looked down at the lush grass they sat upon and a single tear made it's way down his cheek. "I don't think the wound in my heart will ever heal, Abbi. The kingdom needs a queen and you a mother."

"I'm almost sixteen Father, I don't need a mother anymore. And as far as the kingdom goes, they can survive without a queen."

Abbigail could see her father wouldn't budge. There would be no talking him out of finding a new queen. Hopefully it wouldn't be her.

Trence was waiting just a ways away, having probably heard the entire conversation. "What did he say?"

"He's set on finding another queen. Whether it's me or someone else, I don't think he cares."

Groaning, Trence mummbled, "Good grief, he just won't let it go."

"Has he pursued my demands at all?"

"He has been sending out an alarmingly large amount of hunters and orders to tailors, but no matter how much I ask, he won't tell me what for." Trence escorted Abbigail through the garden's and back to the castle.

This distressed Abbigail further. Was her father really trying to meet Abbigail's demands? He wouldn't really go through with it would he?

"Don't worry Abbigail. He can't marry you even if he meets your requirements. We would never allow it."

"Thank you Trence. I think I need to rest a bit."

Trence bowed before leaving her. Abbigail entered the castle and made her way through the hall to the main hall. From there she took the marble stairs up to the second floor and too her bedroom. She found her lady in waiting there,making her bed and sweeping the fireplace.

"Hello Princess, what can I do for you?"

"Nothing Matilda, I just wish to rest."

"I'll leave then." Matilda turned to go.

"No, you can stay and finish you work. It won't be a bother."

Abbigail laid on her bed and thought of the future. What would she do if her father really did want to marry her. The thought made Abbigail sick. Her father had never been the type to do such things, but since her mother had died, she wasn't sure what her father would do. Maybe she would run away or find a prince to marry before her father could do something they would both regret later.

Soon, Abbigail was enveloped by sleep and didn't wake up until the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's a longer chapter. Sorry I haven't been writing a whole lot. Life is a whirlwind and I've been going through a rough patch. I scraped out a new chapter though, just for you guys. :)**

Weeks more passed since Abbigail spoke with her father at her mother's grave. Abbigail was still unsure what her father's plans were, but he was still set on finding a queen she was sure. Her father was known for his stubbornness. The thing Abbigail was unsure of was whether he planned on marrying her. The thought sent shivers down her spine and caused her stomach to roil. Abbigail didn't like to think ill of her father, but what was she supposed to think when he asked her to marry him? She wasn't sure what she what to do.

One day she found herself hanging around the advisers' offices after her daily lessons. Abbigail wasn't sure what she was doing here, but she needed advice and this was the best place to find it. Still trying to muster her courage, Abbigail paced outside, occasionally putting her hand on the door before shaking her head and pacing some more. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Trence stepped out.

"Princess." He seemed rather bemused at her presence. "What are you doing here?"

"I am still worried about father. He's been acting strangely. I..." Abbigail trailed off, not sure what else to say. She felt frustrated and confused.

Trence sighed. "He still hasn't dropped it, but do not worry. I would never let him marry his own daughter. I have seen you raised since the day you were born, I feel as if you are my own. You will never come to harm as long as I am around, I promise you, Princess."

Abbigail felt moved at his words, tears pricking at her eyes."Trence you are a true friend. I shan't forget your words." Trence gave Abbigail a fatherly embrace before pulling back and offering her handkerchief. Abbigail laughed at took it, wiping her eyes before handing it back. "I'd better head back and make myself presentable before dinner."

Heading back to her room, Abbigail saw, to her surprise, her father standing outside her room. He was supposed to be taking requests from citizens right now, so she wasn't sure what he was doing here.

"Abbi, my dear, I have brought you something." Her father ushered her into her room. Abbigail's stomach dropped at the sight.

Laying on her bed were three dresses, one of gold like the sun, one of shining silver like the moon, and one as dazzling as the stars. Beside the dresses was the cloak of animal furs. Abbigail was stunned. She was almost sure her father wouldn't be able to accomplish it. Somehow he did.

"There you are my dear, the dresses and the cloak. I have found my own officiator and am paying him a ridiculous amount because he was very against marrying a man to his daughter, but after a large sum he agreed. We will be married in a fortnight."

Not knowing what to say, Abbigail did nothing but stare, dumbfounded, at her father. He bowed slightly before leaving.

Abbigail didn't go down to dinner. A maid brought food and found Abbigail still standing and staring at the dresses. The maid sighed and put a hand on the girls shoulder. Her maid, Matilda, sat down Abbigail and brushed out her hair and braided her long golden curls down her back and helped her change into a nightgown for bed. Matilda lay Abbigail down on her bed. "You just go to sleep now, Princess. Things will be better in the morning." Matilda left the princess to sleep, but sleep never found her.

What was she going to do? She couldn't marry her father! Something like that was ghastly and sinful. Abbigail just couldn't do it. Was that wrong of her to disobey her father although she knew it was not right? Abbigail tossed and turned, unsure what to do. Anxiety clouded her mind and heart. She needed to get away.

Abbigail made up her mind then. She would leave, tonight. She quickly got up and put on simple clothes that she'd hidden when she used to sneak out of the palace and roam the streets. She pulled the cloak of a thousand furs over it all. Smearing her face with soot, Abbigail thought of what to bring with her. She opened the draws on her vanity and found a gold ring, necklace, and brooch. They were gifts from her mother. She dropped them in a rough sack and shoved the three dresses in too, not quite sure why.

With that, she slung the bag over one shoulder and made her way down the quiet, empty halls. It was night and Abbigail could hardly see. She put a hand out in front of her, feeling her way down the halls. She went through the kitchen, grabbing an apple as she went and exited through the service entrance.

The night was cold, biting at her exposed skin. Pulling the cloak tight around herself, Abbigail made her way towards the woods. She walked all night, getting as far away from her father as she could. She wasn't sure where she was, but she hoped she was out of her kingdom. What was she going to do now? She had no where to go. After all the walking, she was tired. She found a hallowed out dead tree and laid down on the ground to sleep. Surprisingly it found her quickly before she was unceremoniously awakened by the baying of hunting dogs.


	5. Chapter 5

Abbigail awoke to hear people speaking and dogs barking. She could feel a wet nose brushing her feet. It took a moment for her sleepy mind to register what the people were saying. Sleep clung to her eyes and she had to rub it out.

"What do you think it is, Majesty?" A male voice spoke.

"I don't know. See if you can capture it alive and we'll take it back with us," another male voice commanded.

Feeling hands start to grab her, Abbigail screamed. "Wait! I am a poor girl with no parent's. Have mercy."

"What is your name child?" The second man asked.

Abbigail froze up. She didn't know what to say. "I-I don't... remember..." Abbigail stuttered. She squinted her eyes, hoping they wouldn't care if she lied.

"Well, Cat-skin, come with us. There must be a job for you in the kitchens," He replied again. One of the men accompanying him, grabbed Abbigail by the arm and hoisted her up onto his horse.

The man who spoke with her, rode at the front, seeming regal on his steed. He wore a fine sky-blue doublet with a navy blue cloak pulled over his shoulders. A sword was belted to his waist, sheathed, but still dangerous looking. The midday sun shone in his dark hair, making it seem redder. He was the most handsome man Abbigail had ever seen. The men around him wore leather jerkins and seemed rougher, with beards and unkempt hair.

The late spring sun shone through he leaves on the trees, making Abbigail sweat beneath all the furs. She contemplated removing it before remembering her long golden hair. Something like that might give her away. She'd have to do something about it later. For now Abbigail relished at being away from her father. No more marriage proposals or worrying about marrying her own father. She was free.

Soon a palace came into view. It stood Regal on the top of a hill, a town splayed out before it. Made of a beautiful white stone, the palace glittered in the sunlight. It looked like thousands of diamonds inlaid on the surface. It was much more aesthetically pleasing than her old home. The town was made of similar white stone, but it was duller and the buildings much smaller. Homes sat above shops and different homes scattered here and there. People bowed whenever they passed and for a moment Abbigail worried that she had been found out before realizing they weren't bowing to her. The man at the front in the sky-blue doublet waved and smiled at the people. _He's a king,_ Abbigail thought to herself. She must've made her way to the neighboring kingdom in the night.

The group made there way up to the palace. Abbigail was guided to the service entrance and the king went through the front doors, as a king does. Abbigail was sad to part with him and wondered if she'd see him again. _Stop thinking this way Abbigail, you're a servant now, he wont look twice at you._

Abbigail was shown the kitchen where the group of huntsmen left her. A cook hurried about, making food to prepare for dinner while telling the people to take lunch to the king. He was a burly man, with pudgy fingers and oily black hair. He had an apron tied about his waist and a stubbly beard on his chin.

"Make yourself useful, girl, and clean the ashes out of the fireplace." Abbigail wasn't sure who the cook was talking to. "Are you deaf or just stupid?" the cook asked. "GO!"

Abbigail hurried to the fireplace, not wishing to incur the wrath of the cook. She scooped the ashes out of the fireplace and placed them in a tin bucket.

The cook gave Abbigail odd jobs to do the rest of the day, plucking poultry, cleaning out ashes, picking herbs, fetch wood and water, and all the dirty jobs that the cook didn't want to do himself.

When evening came, the cook showed her to a little room beneath the stairs where she would sleep and live. There was a bed and a cracked basin and stained basin of water. It was a simple room with no comfort or light. There was a single candle by the basin, not lit. Abbigail placed her sack of meger belongings beneath the bed. Curling up on the bed, she wept.

 **YAY! Another chapter so soon! I feel like taking advantage of writing while I still feel like it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh my gosh, thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, and favorited. You have no idea how much it means to me. Even if it's not a ton, I really appreciate it!  
**

A few days passed without much commotion. The cook kept Abbigail busy, so much so her hands started to callus. Abbigail wasn't against it, but she wasn't used to it. It seemed like the cook was working her harder than a cart horse. She went to sleep hours after the sun had set and she woke hours before it rose. All of it was so new to her, but she was determined to do anything she could to stay here.

Abbigail would go to the garden in her free time, which wasn't often. The garden was beautiful, with blooming red roses and soft pink snapdragons. In her childhood, Abbigail's governess took her out to the garden for lessons and taught her about each and every flower that bloomed, about the butterflies that floated through, about nature in all it's splendorous beauty. Abbigail never forgot those days, before her mother's death. She wondered what the people she left behind were doing. Did they miss her? Did they think she was dead?

Deep in her thoughts, Abbigail didn't notice someone sit beside her. They simply sat, didn't speak or move. When Abbigail noticed and looked over, she saw it was the king. She didn't say anything to him, but stood to go back to the kitchens.

"Do you like the garden?" the king suddenly asked.

"Yes," Abbigail replied.

The king smile slightly. "You're quite frank," he chuckled. "Which is your favorite flower?"

"I like snapdragons the best. My... mother used to make them speak to me when I was a child," Abbigail admitted. It wasn't really her mother, but her governess, although she couldn't very well say that. Servants didn't normally have governesses.

"How?" the king asked, perplexed.

Picking a flower, Abbigail pinched the sides and made flower pop open, looking like a gaping maw. She squeezed and released, making the blossom open and close. The king laughed, the sound coming from deep in his chest. Abbigail was unsure how old he was, but it looked like he was in his early twenties. How did he become a king so young? Abbigail was familiar with the only reason. His father and mother must've died, leaving him, as the only heir, king.

The thought made Abbigail wonder. When her father died, who would take over the kingdom? She could travel back when he died, but how would she know? What if he was already dead? Abbigail was never particularly close with her father, especially after recent events, but she would never wish him ill. The idea of it made her want to run back to her kingdom and beg forgiveness; however, Abbigail was hesitant. Did her father still want to marry her?

"What's on your mind?" the king asked.

Abbigail shook her head, "It isn't important enough to worry the king."

"I'll just have to decide that myself."

Sighing, Abbigail sat back down beside the king. She couldn't very well tell him was was actually on her mind, so she made up a lie on the spot. "I was just thinking I don't know your name," Abbigail blurted out.

"It's Damian." The king, Damian replied. The king smiled, causing Abbigail's heart to twist. Her stomach seemed to float and heat rise in her cheeks. _Stop this foolishness_ , Abbigail told herself, _he thinks you clean ashes and make his supper. He could never think you pretty._

"I'd better get back to the kitchen's before cook gets angry." Abbigail backed away before catching herself in an error. She curtsied deeply, saying, "Thank you for the conversation, your majesty."

The king smiled again. "Call me Damian. I never was one for formalities anyway."

Abbigail nodded before hurrying to the kitchens. Cook was at the stove, cooking away, turning around every once in while to chop vegetables.

"Where've you been child?" Cook asked sharply. "I asked you to pluck the chicken."

Abbigail sighed deeply. "I'll do it right away."

 **BTW, the snapdragon thing is a real thing. Also snapdragons ARE my favorite flower.**

 **I updated this chapter, because I realized I hadn't named the king yet and he's kind of important. :P**


	7. Chapter 7

**I thought I'd try something a little different with this chapter, just for fun.**

Damian's POV

Damian sat in his office, rubbing his temples. His advisers gave him the details of his economics and things did not look good. His father had made a mess of the kingdom at the end of his life. The money was running dry and the people were uneasy. Something drastic would have to change to keep his kingdom afloat.

"The only option is to marry and merge with another kingdom," his chief adviser had told him. "The only girl close enough to your age is Princess Abbigail, but I hear she's gone missing. Her father's pretty unstable now days."

Princess Abbigail was a stranger to him. He'd heard tales of her mother's beauty, but he'd never seen her. "Very well," Damian told his chief adviser, "I would think on the matters before making a decision."

Left with only his thoughts, Damian went to sit on his favorite bench in the gardens. It was only his favorite because it had been his mother's favorite. She used to sit there for hours before... Shaking the thoughts from his head, Damian noticed something. That servant girl, he never had learned her real name, sat upon the bench. He remembered having called her Cat-skin upon their first meeting. He didn't speak as he sat beside her. She didn't notice him there at first, but when she did, she only got up to leave.

"Do you like the garden?" Damian asked her.

"Yes," she answered curtly. Her voice and way of speaking didn't match her grungy appearance. It brought a soft smile to his lips.

"You're quite frank," Damian said, finding a chuckle behind his voice. It'd been so long since he'd felt the urge to laugh. Looking back over the garden, Damian asked, "Which is your favorite flower?"

The girl's eyes clouded over. "I like snapdragons the best. My... mother used to make them speak to me when I was a child."

This thought mystified the king. "How?" he asked, perturbed.

Cat-skin simply plucked the blossom of a snapdragon and pinched either side of it, making the front pop open. Damian could see the resemblance of a dragon, the front being his gaping maw. The girl pinched and released the blossom, the front popping open and then closing again. The silliness of it all made Damian laugh. The real kind of laughter that comes from more than just your chest, but your soul. Damian hadn't laughed like that in a while.

As Damian regained control of himself, Cat-skin watched him, her brows drawn together. She was so deep in thought she didn't catch herself staring at him. He wondered what she was thinking and before he could stop himself he asked, "What's on your mind?"

Quickly shaking her head, she admitted, "It isn't important enough to worry the king."

"I'll just have to decide that myself."

Sitting back down beside Damian, Cat-skin sighed. Thinking for a moment, the girl then spoke in such a rush, it took a moment for Damian to piece it into a coherent sentence. "I was just thinking I don't know your name."

"It's Damian," he replied, smiling at the girl. A blush crept into her cheeks and Damian realized his blunder. _You fool,_ Damian reprimanded himself, _you've gone and given her the wrong idea._ Although, Damian had to wonder what Cat-skin would look like without the soot, but he shut the thought out as soon as he'd thought it. It didn't matter anyway. His marriage would be diplomatic, not romantic.

"I'd better get back to the kitchens before cook gets angry." Cat-skin began backing away, before stoping, curtsying, and saying, "Thank you for the conversation, your majesty."

A smile began to form before Damian could quell it. "Call me Damian. I never was one for formalities."

Nodding quickly, Cat-skin turned and hurried back to the kitchens. Damian rubbed a hand over his eyes and just wanted to forget about being royalty. Sometimes he wished he could lead the simple life of a servant.

 **Hey guys, sorry for the big delay. I've really wanted to right more for you, but school started up again, so I've been really busy. But I cleared some time to write this chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, I have a bit of an announcement. I've been trying to schedule stuff in my life a bit better so I can get a new chapter out every week. They'll be going up on Friday or Saturday of every week. I would do multiple, but with school back on it's the best I can manage. Thanks so much for sticking with me while I figure stuff out. Enjoy!**

Abbigail spent months a the castle, not seeing much of Damian. As king, he didn't spend much time with the servants. Abbigail had not done any socializing since she had spoken to the king, except to tell cook she'd finished her tasks. Even though all meals were held in the kitchens with all the servants after dinner, Abbigail never spoke. She rather liked listening in on the others conversations.

Most of the maids gossiped about this and that, but their main focus was on that of the king. Apparently the kingdom was not doing well financially, but Abbigail chalked it up to idle gossip. Damian was not married, nor had any family left to speak of.

One day as Abbigail sat to dinner, listening to two young maids talk about the possibility of the king visiting one of the neighboring kingdoms. Before she could here exactly which one, Cook called her in to wash dishes. Abbigail's hands were already cracked and dry from all the dish washing she did in one day, but it was almost normal to her now. Singing during her chores helped keep her spirits light.

Sometimes on nights she could not sleep, she would go and sit in the garden, on that same bench, and watch the stars. That night was no different. She sat, wrapped up in the cloak, and thought about her future. That thought permeated her mind most days. It was her constant worry, what the future might hold. As always, she was too deep in thought to notice someone sit beside her.

"What do you think about so deeply?" a voice asked.

Abbigail jumped and whirled around to see Damian sitting next to her. "Your highness, Damian, you gave me quite a fright sneaking up like that."

"I wasn't exactly quiet. You are just too deep in thought to notice me," the king chuckled.

"I am sorry, I won't be so rude next time, I promise." Abbigail clutched her dirty skirts, red creeping into her face.

"Do not apologize, it is refreshing actually. Most people fawn all over me, but you are different."

Damian had tried to comfort her, but it only made her face redder. The blush crawled down her neck and up to her ears. When had her self esteem taken such a plummet? Usually, she would act confidently in front of others, but since she became Cat-skin, she'd been sheepish and subdued. Abbigail was beginning to hate Cat-skin.

"You didn't answer my question," Damian prodded. "What is it that distract you this way?"

Abbigail sighed. "It may seem that my life as a servant is so simple, but I have problems just like everyone else. I have food and a place to sleep, but... my family..." Not knowing how to tell him without incriminating herself, Abbigail lapsed into silence Abbigail wanted to talk to Damian because she was desperate to have someone know who she was.

"If you don't want to talk you don't have to." Damian leaned forward a little to better see Abbigail's face. In response she turned slightly so he couldn't see her flushed face. "You should take a bath." The rudeness took Abbigail by surprised and she whirled to face him in indignation. "You'd be quite pretty."

The two sat there for a few minutes, neither one knew what to say. The night air was cooling with Autumn's approach, but in her thick animal skin cloak Abbigail wasn't cold.

"I over heard some of the maids gossiping. They said you were going on a diplomatic trip to one of the neighboring kingdoms." Pursing her lips, Abbigail scrunched her skirts up in her fists. "I was wondering which kingdom it was."

Raising his brows, Damian let all the air in his lungs out in a rush. "It's the Kingdom of Barawyn. I have heard tales of Princess Abbigial's beauty and my coffers are emptying at an alarmingly rapid pace. My father left this kingdom in shambles. I'm trying my best to make it right, but I could use some help. Marrying a wealthy princess is my only hope."

Abbigail's heart stopped. King Damian was going back to her home to ask for her hand in marriage. He wanted to marry her! Would her father ever allow such a thing? What would Damian do if he found out she had been lying to him? He would be furious.

"Excuse me, your highness, but I should return to the kitchens before Cook gets angry." Abbigail stood, curtsied and fled.


	9. Chapter 9

Abbigail dunked the dish back into the dirty water, scrubbing like mad. Somehow, cleaning had become relaxing, giving Abbigail a chance to think and process recent events. Setting the dish aside, she grabbed a new dish and began to scrap it clean.

What was she going to do about Damian going to see her father? Should she do anything? A handsome king wanted to marry her. Her father might still want to marry her. Would her father turn Damian away once he heard of his neighbor's intention? The only solace Abbigail found in the situation was the fact that she would not have to go. It was the first time that Abbigail delighted in being a servant.

"Girl!" Cook called in his usual demanding tone. "You nearly done with those dishes?"

"Yes Cook!" Abbigail replied, doubling her effort. Her fingers hurt from the pressure and sweat pricked at her brow.

At moment's like this her mind often wandered to her memories as Princess Abbigail. The beautiful dresses, the delicious food, and the suitors. Feeling wanted was something that came in short supply since she had become . Men came from all over, seeking her favors. Her beauty and wealth was renowned. Would anyone want her know that she was a servant? Maybe her father would forgive her and allow her to live with him as his daughter once more.

Images of him asking her to marry him permeated her thoughts. She couldn't fathom what he would do if she went back. The mere thought caused shivers down her spine. Somehow her father could still control her even miles away.

Abbigail sat in thought, her hands fully submerged in the dirty water. The young lady had never thought so much in her life as she did that night.

"Hello," a voice called from the stairway down to the kitchens. It sounded like King Damian, but Abbigail laughed at that thought. A king would never come down to the kitchens. "Cook, are you down here?" A head peaked from around the corner, and low and behold, the dark crop of hair belonged to none other than King Damian.

"Your majesty, why are you here?" Abbigail asked, drying her hands on her skirts and curtsying quickly.

"I do own this castle. I wanted to speak with the cook, but it seems he has departed." Damian surveyed the area quickly before looking upon Abbigail. She flushed a deep red and clutched her skirts, but the pressure made her sore hands sting. The king noticed her sharp intake of breath. "What is the matter Cat-skin?"

Abbigail curtsied once again and said, "It is nothing, your majesty."

Damian strode up to her. "I told you to forego formalities and call me Damian." He grabbed her hands and inspected them. The continued use of harsh soaps in water had dried out Abbigail's hands so severely they began to crack, exposing the tender flesh beneath. "When did all of this happen?"

"It is simply from all the work Cook has me do. I told you it was no problem." Abbigail tried to extract her hands, but Damian tightened his grasp on her wrists.

"Sit."

Taken aback, Abbigail remained standing. "What?"

"I said, sit." He guided Abbigail over to the table where the servant's ate. Grabbing a rag out of a wicker basket, he tore it in two with one swift motion. Abbigail could not help but notice how his biceps bulged beneath his silk tunic. He straddled the bench and faced her. Wrapping the torn piece of cloth around her hand, he muttered under her breath, "A woman should not be working in this kind of condition."

"Damian, why are you doing this?" Abbigail asked, watching him cradle her hands in his.

"You are hurt. Is it wrong for me to help you?" He looked up into her eyes briefly and she noted the gold flecks in his summery blue eyes. Only after did she realize how close he was.

"Well, no, but you are sitting rather closely and I do not want anyone getting the wrong idea." Abbigial looked away quickly, her face flushing a deeper color of pink.

"It is a good thing everyone is asleep. Now we do not have to worry about anyone seeing." He moved on to wrapping her other hand, holding it just as carefully as the last. "I will talk to cook about lessening your duties and hiring another assistant."

Abbigail shook her head. "No, I could never ask that of you."

"There is no need to ask. I am merely worried about your health." Damian tied off the makeshift bandage and stood. "You should probably sleep. I will talk to cook in the morning."

"I will finish the dishes before retiring." Abbigail adjusted the rags on her hands and began to sit on her little stool to begin cleaning, but Damian grabbed her upper arm.

"Go to bed, Cat-skin. Do I have your word?"

Unable to break her eyes away, Abbigail nodded dumbly. She didn't move until long after Damian had said good night and exited the kitchen. Heart still pounding, she made her way to her room beneath the stairs. If only she were still a princess, she might have a chance with Damian.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I was attempting to mod The Sims all weekend. :P Anyway, I wrote this chapter during class just for you. :3**

Birds sang in the sky and the sun shone down on a beautiful morning. Abbigail had finished her morning chores early so she could sit outside. A small part of her hoped King Damian would come out to the garden, but she told herself repeatedly not to get her hopes up. Her heart still sank when Cook called for her to return and Damian had not made an appearance.

Abbigail sat on her stool to wash dishes. Her hands were still dry and cracked, but they did not hurt nearly as much since Damian had bandaged them. She picked up a dish to begin cleaning, but Cook interrupted her.

"Come here, girl." Cook waved her over. Abbigail did as she was told, moving to stand beside Cook. "You know how to use a knife?" Abbigail shook her head. Cook showed her and let her chop vegetables.

Mind swimming, she cut vegetables as best she could. Cook directed her, letting her help him cook for the first time. Abbigail enjoyed her new jobs. She still washed dishes at times, but it wasn't so monotonous.

The next days followed much the same. Cleaning dishes after breakfast, sitting outside for a time before returning to help Cook. There was no sign of King Damian except the dirty dishes left after meals. Abbigail knew he must be working hard to keep his kingdom afloat until he could bring in financial help.

Abbigail chopped carrots as she thought. Thoughts so took over her mind that she did not notice King Damian in the kitchens until he was about to leave. He stood at the base of the stairs talking to Cook.

"Please begin preparations to depart for Barawyn next week," King Damian directed. Abbigail sighed, telling herself that at least she wasn't important enough to go.

Cook scratched his chin, muttering, "They ought have a well enough equipped kitchen. I will need the girl with me to assist."

It felt as though Abbigail's heart stopped beating. Her hand slipped and the knife clattered to the floor. Fear gripped her heart and she couldn't move.

"Cat-skin?" Damian called, concern in his voice.

Cook spat with venom in his voice, "Stupid girl."

Abbigail's mind filled with cluttered thoughts. Had Cook said he needed her to go to Barawyn? Had he been talking about someone else? The thought of seeing her father again made Abbigail physically ill and caused shivers to race up and down her spine.

Damian threw her a look before saying farewell to Cook and exiting back upstairs.

Cook picked the knife up and put it in Abbigail's hand. The contact shocked her out of her trance and she began to cut vegetables again, but this time slower and more methodical. She contemplated asking Cook to let her stay, but she knew already her request would be denied. No one told Cook what to do.

* * *

That night as Abbigail lay in her bed, her doubts and fears took over once more. She couldn't go back to her father, she wouldn't. The most she could hope for is that he wouldn't recognize her. A thought hit her then. Her father wouldn't have to see her at all. She was a servant now and he was royalty. Her father never mingled with the servants, especially in the kitchens. She felt better, but the doubts didn't subside. What if Trence recognized her? Surely he knew her almost as well as her father and he went to the kitchens on occasion. Would he keep her identity a secret?

Sorrow griped her heart and mind and a tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a trail in the dirt on her face. She wrapped the animal skin cloak tighter around herself and turned to sleep.

Dreams filled with anxiety, Abbigail tossed and turned. Giving up the futile search for sleep, Abbigail eyed the parcel in the corner. Inside were the stunning dresses her father had given her. _Why Papa?,_ she thought to herself. _Why did you have to ask me to marry you?_ He had driven her away and now they both had to suffer.


	11. Chapter 11

The morning of their departure came quickly. Abbigail stood outside the front of the castle next to Cook. Knees shaking, Abbigail took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Sleep had evaded her all night, fears gripping her heart. She prayed with every ounce of her soul that her father would not find her.

It was required that the servants walk behind the carriage. Abbigail knew that inside sat Damian, that pensive look on his face, his dark hair slicked back, and his icy, blue eyes brooding. She wasn't sure if it was the walking or the thoughts of Damian that made her breathless. Was she foolish for dreaming and hoping that one day she would actually get to marry Damian? She shook the thought out of her head. She was foolish.

Abbigail made it until noon until all the walking caught up to her. She wasn't used to so much exercise. Her side ached and she could hardly breathe. Sweat dripped down her face, creating tracks in the dirt. The sun beat down relentlessly, but Abbigail couldn't risk taking off her cloak. She juts put her discomfort to the side and kept on walking.

The scenery would have been beautiful if Abbigail was less miserable. All she wanted was a cool drink of water and some food. Damian had decided to skip lunch in order to get to Barawyn as fast as possible. _That is easy for him because he does not have to walk there,_ Abbigail thought to herself.

Over to tree line, a giant castle appeared. Abbigail's heart clenched at the familiar sight. She couldn't count all the times she'd seen this scene. It used to bring her comfort, that she was finally home, but now it filled her with fear. She didn't want to go back to her father. The look on his face the last time she saw him scared her.

"Girl, move along," Cook bellowed behind her. Her mind had been so occupied she hadn't noticed she had stopped walking. Bowing slightly in apology, she kept moving forward. Her feet ached, but it was dulled out by the ache in her heart.

The castle's front doors loomed before them. Abbigail ducked her head as her eyes landed on her father. He looked no different, if a bit tired. Pulling her cloak hood over her face, she cowered behind cook. Damian and her father shook hands.

"I was surprised to hear of your plans to visit," her father said, nodding slightly. "I am glad to welcome you into my home." Her father introduced Damian to his advisers and they made their way inside. As the doors closed, Damian's servants made their way to the back of the house. Abbigail followed, breathing a sigh of relief. She was safe, for the moment.

* * *

Damian sat at the long dining table, seated at the king's right hand. He had to admit, Eadric had a magnificent home. The steeples touched the heavens and despite being made of stone, was quite warm and inviting.

"You have a lovely home," Damian mentioned biting into a strawberry.

"Thank you, my late wife worked very hard to make it so." A strange look clouded Eadric's eyes. "Oh my, I forgot to ask, but what brings you here, Damian?"

Brows furrowed, Damian eyed Eadric. He contemplated putting the matter off until a later date, but Damian had done that enough already. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, "I came here to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. You see, my kingdom is underfunded after my father's rule and I was hoping if I married Princess Abbigail it would not only strengthen our ties as nations, but lead to trade deals in the future." Scratching behind his ear, Damian mumbled his last comment under his breath. "There is also her dowry."

Eadric smiled slightly and bowed his head low. "I am sorry you wasted your time, Damian, but my daughter is already promised to someone."

Damian's eyes widened. "I never heard this news. The church usually announces when royalty is to be married."

The same look took over Eadric's face. "The church is not supporting my daughter's marriage. They see it as 'ghastly and sinful'." Eadric scoffed.

"Who is Princess Abbigail to be wed to?" Damian asked, an uncomfortable feeling worming around in his gut.

"Me," Eadric said simple before getting up and exiting the dining hall. Damian sat in bewilderment for a moment longer. No wonder he had not heard of Princess Abbigail's marriage. The church would be sorely against a man marrying his own daughter. Eadric had always been close to Damian's father, so he could not imagine what had changed in the man.

His last word echoed around in his brain _._ Damian exited the dining hall, making his way to the garden. It took a while, but Damian found it. It was night now, the stars twinkling in the heavens. Eadric's garden was a masterpiece compared to Damian's. Flowers of exquisite colors bloomed in every corner. As Damian observed, he noticed a silhouette. A person sat at the edge of the garden, beneath a willow tree. It was Cat-Skin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys. Sorry for the absence. My life's been a whirlwind with a possible new relationship on the table and finals have me swamped. I had a little free time to squeeze a chapter out for you. I will hopefully be able to write more often soon! Enjoy!**

Damian watched Cat-skin for a moment, seated beneath the willow tree. There was something in front of her, but Damian could not make it out in the darkness. He took a few tentative steps toward her, making sure to keep his footsteps quiet as not to startle her.

"What is this?" Leaning forward, Damian could see a large round stone protruding from the ground. One gray side was sanded smooth with something etched into the surface that Damian couldn't quite make out.

At the sound of Damian's voice, Cat-skin jumped slightly before turning to look up at him. She leapt to her feet and curtsied, a blush barely visible beneath the dirt."It is the grave of... the late queen." Cat-skin paused and looked down at the grave marker. "I came to pay my respects."

Damian raised a brow before crouching to read the writing on the stone. "How did you know the late queen was laid to rest in this place?"

Cat-skin got down on her knees with a forlorn look on her face. "Um... well... I used to work here before."

Nodding simply, Damian put a hand on the stone. "Why was she not buried in the royal crypt? It is odd for a woman of her standing."

"Queen Eva loved this garden, especially this willow tree. Some say she loved it more than her own daughter," Cat-skin laughed pathetically.

"That could not be true. I am sure the queen loved her daughter very much," Damian replied.

"No, it is true. Princess Abbigail was raised by a governess, completely neglected by both her mother and father. The chief advisor spent more time with the princess then her parent's ever did. I suppose that is why Princess Abbigail ran off."

Shaking his head, Damian sighed and ran his hands through his dark hair. He clenched his teeth and groaned. "What am I going to do, Cat-skin?"

"About what?" Abbigail asked, her hand hovering just over his shoulder.

"If I cannot marry Priness Abbigail the kingdom will fall to ruin. I am a terrible king," Damian replied simply, running a hand down his face.

Cat-skin stood and dusted off her skirts. "Walk with me a moment? I want to show you something."

Damian nodded and followed behind her. Cat-skin lead him to a far corner of the garden where a lone stone bench stood solitary in the chill night air. Cat-skin sat and looked to the heavens. "I used to sit out here on warm summer nights and watch the heavens. Sometimes you can even see a falling star."

"Why did you bring me here?" Damian asked as he sat beside her, watching Cat-skin instead of the sky.

"I am not sure of that myself." Cat-skin did not take her eyes off the night sky while she spoke. "I just want to make sure you know you are a wonderful king. You would not worry of your people if you were a terrible king as you say. As long as you work hard and try your very hardest, God will make up the rest."

Damian sat and watched Cat-skin. Her eyes were closed, her hair hidden beneath the hood of her cloak as it usually was. A layer of dirt covered her face, but her cloak fell open to show her full figure. Her chest rose and fell with every breath. Damian felt a tightness in his chest and an odd feeling worm in his gut.

"How are your hands? Have they healed?" Damian asked.

Cat-skin held out her hands, turning slightly to face him. "They are alright. You should not worry about me, your highness." Damian snatched her hands and inspected them, rubbing a thumb across her palm lightly. A strange and deep sadness fell over Damian's heart.

"I told you to call me Damian," he muttered under his breath before clearing his throat and delcaring, "It is late," and marching off back to the castle.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry for the delay guys. Things are rough in life, but as a Christmas present for all you lovely people reading this story I wrote this chapter just for you. :3 Merry Christmas or whatever holiday you choose to practice.**

Abbigail worked in the kitchen's most of the next day and, although Abbigail had lived in this castle her entire life, she was quire unfamiliar with her surroundings. She recognized but few of the servants faces, having avoided Trence, the governess,  
and Matilda, her maid, for they would surely recognize her. It was simple to avoid Trence and the governess, but Matilda ate in the servant's hall.

That morning as Abbigail washed the dishes, Cook called her over to him. Abbigail turned her head, but as she did Abbigail could see Matilda standing just behind him. She realized too late and Matilda got a good look at her face. The basket of clean linens  
crashed the the floor as Matilda's eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth.

Before Matilda could say a word, Abbigail rushed the the girl's side. "Please excuse me, Cook. I will take the girl back to her room," Abbigail explained. She ushered Matilda out of the kitchen and back towards the servant's quarters.

"Princess," Matilda whispered in a harsh voice, "I apologize for my harsh tone, but what are you doing here?"

Abbigail bit her lip and crushed her skirts in her fists. "I apologize profusely for leaving, Matilda, but-"Matilda cut the princess off with a wave of her hand.

"That does not matter. I want to know what you are doing back. If Kind Eadric finds you here, not only will he be furious, but he will also force you to stay," Matilda explained.

"Do not tell anyone, especially Trence, I was here. King Damian will surely wish to leave tomorrow and I will be gone," Abbigail insisted, grabbing Matilda by the shoulders. "Please, Matilda."

The maid nodded, her dark curls bouncing. "I promise." Before hurrying off, Matilda pulled Abbigail into a tight embrace. Surprised by the action, Abbigail stiffened. "Good luck, Princess," Matilda whispered right before she rounded the corner and disappeared  
from sight.

Abbigail sighed and rubbed her neck with a hand. It was going to be a long day. Abbigail could only hope that Damian would leave by tomorrow. Returning to work, Abbigail's heart was troubled and her mind running a thousand miles a minute.

* * *

noshade=""

Late that night, Abbigail tossed and turned, images of her mother and father haunted her dreams. She sat up, her hair clinging to her face and a chill running down her spine. Washing her face, she decided to take a walk. The smell of earth and grass permeated  
the air as Abbigail walked along the perimeter of the castle. She looked up to see a flickering light in one of the windows of the guest wing. Maybe it was Damian. Abbigail contemplated going to visit him. Then she thought better of it. He was probably  
dressed for the night. Her face flushed at the image of him standing in his room with only his night clothes on, his muscles rippling beneath the thin fabric.

Turning on her heel, Abbigail hurried back to her room to splash water on her face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey, guys. Sorry I've been away. Remember that relationship on the table I told you about? Yeah, well, that's gone down the toilet, so now I'm watching Anastasia on repeat and writing my issues away. But enough about me. That's not what you're here for.**

The next day, Damian and his entourage returned home. There was no news of Princess Abbigail and King Eadric was adamant in marrying his daughter. Damian sat in his carriage, listening intently to the sound of the horses hooves on the rocks and dirt.  
Anxiety plagued every inch of his mind and heart. If he could not marry Princess Abbigail, what was he to do? He thought about how King's and Queen's in other kingdom's found a wife and future queen for their sons. It hit him then. He would throw  
a ball to find a girl with a dowry large enough to help his kingdom pull through. He would have to consult his advisers when they returned to the castle.

Outside, he could faintly hear the servants talking. He tried to pick Cat-skin's voice out of the muffled noises, but it was too quiet. What was it about the little servant girl that intrigued him so much?She was not beautiful or royal. Only, there  
was a softness about her. Damian groaned and tore a hand through his hair. What was he thinking? She was just a servant with manners, nothing more. As Damian sighed, the carriage hit a particularly jarring bump. Damian rocked and braced himself against  
the carriage doors.

"This is going to be a long carriage ride home."

And it was.

When he arrived, he immediately went to the great hall to meet with his advisers about his idea. They agreed it was their best hope. The ball would last for three nights, allowing more and more people to meet with the king. Every little detail was planned  
before Damian left the great hall. He sat in his throne and dictated what he expected. After everyone left, Damian decided to take a walk in the garden. Even he had to admit that a small part of him hoped Cat-skin would be out there. Indeed she was.

Damian admired her, staring up at the stars. His heart squeezed and he cursed himself for being so stupid. As he turned around to leave, a voice said, "It's a beautiful night out, is it not?"

Turning, he saw Cat-skin watching him over her shoulder. "Normally, you would berate me for sneaking up on you. I guess I am losing my touch."

Cat-skin smiled and looked back to the heavens. "I guess I am getting better at noticing you," Cat-skin replied. "What brings you all the way out here, your highness?"

Damian gestured back to the castle's back gates and answered, "We are not that far from the castle and I thought I would go for a walk."

Tilting her head to the side, Cat-skin asked, "Something on your mind?"

Damian sat beside her and folded his hands in his lap. "I was thinking about how else I could find the money to help the kingdom. The advisers agree that our best option is to throw a ball. It will last three days and I will meet every eligible princess  
on the continent. Hopefully one will have a large enough dowry to pull us through."

Cat-skin pursed her lips. "Are you sure there is no other option?"

"There are other options, none of which are pleasant. This is the easiest."

When they bid farewell, Damian admired her, but did not see the plan formulating behind Cat-skin's eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys. Sorry for the delay, but my anti-depressant was throwing me all out of whack, but I'm doing better now. I hope you enjoy your first night at the ball!**

The first day of the ball required an unhealthy amount of work. All the servants in the castle worked nonstop to prepare food and set up decorations. A week passed since the advisers agreement to the ball and the ballroom looked like a grand painting.  
/Tables were set up against one wall with an arrangement of delicacies. Cheeses and breads with an array of spreads, meats that dripped with succulentjuices, and fruits at the height of ripeness.

Abbigail had a plan. She still had the three dresses her father had made her stuffed under her bed. In order to relive one last night of splendorand richness, she would sneak away to the ball.

When the firstnight of the ballwas well underway,Abbigail asked Cook if she could go upstairs to watch the ball from the doorway. He grunted in agreement, bit she had to come down in a half and hours time to sweep out the ashes. She

nodded and hurried towards her room beneath the stairs. The first dress was the golden one that shone like the sun. She carefully laid it on her bed, washed the soot from her face, and brushed her golden locks as best she could with her fingers. Whenshe  
was sure no remnant ofCat-skin was left upon her face, Abbigail climbed into her dress and laced it up as best she could.

Cook was sobusy sending food upstairs to replace the plates that were being emptied and barking ordersat all the servants that he never noticed a lone servant girl dressed in all the finery befitting the princess she was slip out the servantsentrance.

Making her way to the front, Abbigail clutched at her skirts and tried to steady her heart beat that galloped like a runaway horse. She wasn't announced as she passed right by the herald and down the stairs to the ball room. The crowd parted for her andshe  
still felt a little sheepish, her hands gripping her skirts in a vice. Her eyes scanned the crowd for one particular face. When her eyes landed on it, she saw he was also watching her. Their eyes never parted as he made his way to her through

the sea of ruffled skirts. Abbigail was certain he recognizedher. She was so obviously a kitchen maid in a fancy dress. When she was about to turn and flee, Damian reached her and proffered his hand to her.

"Would you give me the honor of a dance?"

Abbigail's heart was in her throat as she nodded. He would surely recognize her voice if not her face. Damian's hand rested on the small of her waist and she felt tingles shoot up her spine. When he grabbed her hand it caused the hair on her arms to standon  
end.

"You remind me of someone," Damian stated. Abbigail's heart went from her throat to her toes in a matter of second. She was had. "There are few similarities, she is a servant in the kitchen, but you both have the same softness about you."

Abbigail breathed a sigh of relief and decided it was safe enough now to speak. "I hope you are not insinuating that I have similarities with a kitchen maid." When Damian flushed and stuttered his response, Abbigail laughed.

They spun around the ballroom floor, Abbigail thankful thatthe waltz as still remembered by her feet.

"What is your name?" Damian asked.

"Names are of little importance," Abbigail replied, the voice of a princess coming out of what felt like to her a servant girl's mouth. _You are a princess Abbigail,_ she berated herself. _You haven't forgotten that already have you?_

"But what shall I call you?" Damian asked as the song ended.

"Whatever you please." Abbigail curtsied and when Damian bowed, Abbigail hurried away. She made her way to the servant's entrance and made certain no one was around as she slipped down the stairs and into her room.

After slipping off the dress and putting back on her servant's clothes and fur cloak, Abbigail smeered the dust and dirt on her face to become Cat-skin once again. As she put the dress away, she saw the golden trinkets she had taken from home. She admiredthe  
ring and before she could stop herself, she slipped it onto the string of her apron.

Sweeping the ashes from the fireplace, Cook bellowed, "Leave that till the morning. Heat up his highnesses soup, I am going to have a peak upstairs myself."

As Cook left, Abbigail washed her hands and put the pot of soup over the fire to warm. She tasted it and soured at how bland it was. Cook had rushed this in his hurry to make food for the ball. Abbigail added some spices and flavor as well as toasteda  
little bread to go along with it. When all was finished, Abbigail removed the golden ring from her apron string and twirled it in her fingers. _How I wish to see Damian once more._ It was unlikely he would be out in the gardens this

late. He would eat his supper and go to bed she presumed. Before she could even form the thought entirely in her mind, she plopped the ring into the soup.

Cook returned when the ball had reached it's end. The exrafood was brought downstairs and the king asked for his dinner. Abbigail watchedas the dish was carried up the stairs. All she had to do was wait.

When Damian called for Cook to be brought, Cook bristled and barked, "Stupid girl! You must have let a hair fall in the soup. Come with me as you can be sure I will not take the blame for this."

The two made their way to thedining hall and to King Damian's side at the head of the table.

Cook bowed and Abbigail curtsied. "Before you say anything, Your Highness, I would have you know, it was not I who heated your soup, but my useless servant girl."

Damian raised his brows. "Is that so? You may leave then, Cook."

Abbigail threw a glare at Cook's receding form.

"Cat-skin," Damian called. "Is it true that you made my food?"

Abbigail nodded, clutching her skirts so tight in her fists that her knuckles turned white.

"Well, it was quite delicious actually. Far better than Cook ever made." Damian reached his spoon into the bowl and raised the little golden ring, now covered in broth and meat. "I have only one question. Where did you get this?"

Abbigail scolded herself. How could she do something so rash without coming up with a decent explanation?

"I do not know where that ring came from, Your Highness," Abbigail answered dumbly. "I only made your soup."

Damian let her return to the kitchen. As she exited the dining hall, she found Cook standing just outside.

"It is ill received to eavesdrop outside of doors, Cook," Abbigail stated, moving passed him and down to the kitchen.

 **We're reaching the end now! Only a few more chapters! I have some ideas in the works for a sequel, but I have some other stories I may write first, so look forward to that! Ba-bye!**


	16. Chapter 16

**I feel bad for my long absence, so here's another chapter. It won't be long, but it will be important!**  
 **  
**

Damian sat on the bench in the gardens right before the start of the second night of the ball. Dressed in his finest clothes for the ball,he wondered if that same girl would be there. She was the most beautiful girl he had seen in all his days,  
but what struck him most was the soft tone she shared with the kitchen maid, Cat-skin. It was also obvious that she came from a wealthy family.

The sun was dipping toward the horizon, causing the landscape to be bathed in a golden hue. Birds chirrped and the gardens were green with life. The frangrant perfume of the many flowers permeated the air.

"What is it you are thinking about, Highness?" Damian started at the voice, but instantly recognized it.

"Now it is you who is startling me, Cat-skin," Damian chuckled.

"I apologize, but you seemed so deep in thought, I could not help wonder what it was that occupied you so," Cat-skin stuttered clutching at her skirts as she did.

"I am just thinking about tonight," Damian's mind thought foreward to the coming evening. "A small part of me wishes you could be there, but I know that is not possible. You just have a strange ability to calm me, Cat-skin."

When he looked over to the servant girl, Damian saw a redness take over her cheeks beneath the dirt. Without thinking, he reached up and began to wipe the dirt from her cheek. Cat-skin flinched away from his touch.

"I apologize for my forewardness. You are simply just too easy to talk to."

Cat-skin gripped her skirts so tightly in her fists, that Damian worried she would hurt her hands. He looked away from her and back toward the bushes of snap dragons and peonies. Cat-skin bentdown and smelt a lily of the valley. Her face contorted  
slightly before she sneezed quite daintily.

"Bless you," Damian said with a smile. Cat-skin smiled self-deprecatingly while plucking a small sprig of the flower and situating it onto Damian's lapel. He watched her with his brow furrowed and laughed when she sneezed again.

"You best be going in to welcome your guests, Highness," Cat-skin advised while turning from him and hurrying back to the kitchens.

Damian sighed as he debated with himself over his feelings, but he couldn't help but run his fingers over the small flowers just over his heart.

 **I hope you enjoyed this cute little scene! But it's also important! The last two nights of the ball will be from Damian's point of view. Maybe it will switch, I don't know, but look foreward to that and thank you so much for all of the reviews and support. I LOVE YOU ALL MORE THAN WORDS CAN EXPRESS! Thank you!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Well, I feel really down in the dumps today. So I'll just keep writing to make myself feel better.**

Damian stood at the stairs of the ballroom. The princesses that were invited as possible brides for him had their corsets tightened incredibly small and their hair piled so high it seemed to him they almost brushed the heavens. He ran a hand through his hair while his mind wandered to the kitchens downstairs, to where he was sure Cat-skin was working under the watchful eye of Cook. As he though of her, he fiddled with the lily of the valley stuck to his lapel. It reminded him of his foolish behavior earlier.

The forlorn king danced with foreign princesses and widowed queens. All the while he danced, his eyes and mind stayed focused on the large, dark-wood doors that let access to the ballroom.

Well into the night, Damian talked to dukes and kings who showed interest in him as a possible suitor for their daughters. The sound of the doors to the ballroom opening caught his attention.

It was that mysterious girl from the night before. She wore a silver dress that reflected the lights from the chandeliers, giving her a halo of soft light. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in golden waves. Her face was thin with high cheek bones that were rosy red and littered with light freckles. Damian met her at the bottom of the stairs and scrutinized her face. As he did, she looked her feet and twisted her skirts in fingers. The action seemed familiar, but Damian pushed the feeling aside and asked, "Would you dance with me again?" She looked up at him and the blue sea of her eyes pulled at the strings of his heart. She was so familiar to him, but from where he knew not.

Damian grabbed the girl by the waist and took her small hand in his. He noted how rough her hands were. It was odd for someone of her obviously high status to have rough hands. Almost asking her, but thinking better of it, Damian asked her, "Will you still not tell me your name?"

The girl nodded her head and smiled slightly. "As I stated last night, names are of little importance."

"The way I see it, it is not quite fair," Damian chuckled slightly. "You know my name, but I cannot know yours."

"Sometimes life is not quite fair, Highness," the girl muttered.

"Yes I suppose that's right." Damian spun the girl around the dance floor and watched her face. She stared at his chest, admiring the flowers on his lapel.

"Where did those flowers come from?" she asked.

For a moment, Damian thought of lying, but realized how cruel that would be. Whether Cat-skin ever found out or not, he would not be ashamed enough to lie.

"It was a gift from one of the girls that work in the kitchen," Damian responded, looking down at the white buds on his collar.

"It's sweet of you to wear it. Most royals would just throw it away. Something so simple stands out among all the finery."

"You speak as if you aren't one of us. Your dress says you are a princess."

The girl faltered for a moment and the duke of Thimor bowled over her in his excitement over dancing with his wife. The girl flung her hands out to brace herself and ended up knocking Damian into another couple causing a domino effect. All eyes turned to the mystery girl. Her hands were pressed against Damian's chest, her nose only a few inches from his neck. Her eyes were wide with shock and her ears were turning into increasingly darker shades of red.

Suddenly her nose twitched and her eyes squeezed shut. A dainty little sneeze echoed through the ball room. It echoed in his mind with familiarity.

"Are you alright?" Damian asked.

The girl pushed her hair behind her ears. "I am alright, but I seem to have ruined the ball." Her eyes wandered the crowd before they landed back on Damian. "I should probably leave."

"Why?" Damian asked. "You did nothing wrong?"

"I am sure it is for the better." The girl picked up her skirts in her hands and ran. Damian tried to call after her, but the crowd parted and she disappeared out the door's and into the night.

* * *

The night wore on, but Damian couldn't help but think of that mysterious girl's sneeze and how familiar it had been. As Damian danced with so many women their faces blurred in his memory, his heart was still downstairs with a lone servant girl.

Soon, the evening ended and the guests trickled out. Damian said his farewells to everyone at the door.

A sigh escaped his lips as he sat heavily in his chair at the head of the dining table.

"Have my food brought up," Damian told the servant standing at the door. And then added as an after thought, "Thank you."

The servant showed no response other than a twitch in his brow and a slight nod of his head.

As Damian ate, he was sure Cat-skin had made his food again. He stirred his spoon in the soup and pulled out a golden necklace by the chain. He admired it's intricate details and the jewels inset on the bottom. It was a lovely necklace.

"Bring Cat-skin up to me please." A servant nodded and hurried down the the kitchens. Damian twirled the little gold ring safely tucked in his pocket.

"Your highness, the scullion-girl, as you requested." The servant announced, opening the doors for Cat-skin. Her eyes were down cast as she dipped into a low curtsy.

"I assume you do not know how this necklace came to be in my food?" Damian placed the necklace onto the table.

Cat-skin nodded, not saying a word.

Damian got to his feet and strode toward Cat-skin. She tried to back away, but Damian caught up to her too quickly. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, "Who are you, Cat-skin?"

A blush crawled up her neck and she looked down. Plucking the flowers from his lapel, she rolled them in her fingers. "I am an orphan, who has lost both mother and father. I am only good to have shoes thrown at my head." After she finished speaking, her face contorted in a sneeze, but she stopped it by placing her finger under her nose.

"I do not believe that. I will find out who you are, Cat-skin. I know you are hiding something." Damian moves to give the poor girl some space.

"Why?" She asked, her hands buried her her skirts, squeezing until her arms shook from the effort. "What is so important about a simple servant girl? I do not matter." Cat-skin turned away.

"You do matter," Damian insisted. His tongue was racing too far ahead of his brain. The words lept from his lips before he could get hold of them. "You matter to me."

Whirling to face him, tears cut trails in the dirt on Cat-skin's cheeks. "Do not say things you do not mean, Damian. It is cruel to toy with a girl's heart and mind." With those words, Cat-skin hurried from the dining hall, leaving King Damian to his thoughts and plans.

 **Is everyone ready for the last night of the ball! It's important as many of you know! Keep an eye out for it!**


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm excited for the end of the ball! It will be intense! This isn't quite the end though, I have a few ideas up my sleeves! Keep your eye out for the next chapter! Enjoy!**

A plan was forming inside Damian's mind. If his hunch was untrue, all would go on with the world as normal. If it was true... what would he do? Would she continue working for him despite her background? Would it change the way he felt? How did he feel?

Taking a deep breath, Damian shoved all thoughts of the renegade princess from his mind. Right now, he must entertain his guests.

The last night of the ball was underway. Dancing with infinite princesses and schmoozing with unending dukes was beginning to ruffle Damian. Still, his manners got the best of him, and he kept a convincing smile on his lips while twisting a small gold  
ring in his fingers.

At the same time as the previous two nights, the mystery girl arrived with a dress just as beautiful as before. It sparkled like all thestars, as though the heavens descended to cascade down her. Her golden hair brushed simply over her shoulders.

She met Damian on the ballroom floor. They stood, watching each other amidst the dancing couples.

"May I have this dance?" Damian asked, proffering a hand.

The girl took it, a smile curling her lips. "I do not hope you expect to get my name tonight."

"I have given up on that point. If you do not want to tell me, then you do not have to." Damian placed a hand on her waist and took her hand in his. Their feet followed the 4/4 beat in perfect time. The girl stared into Damian's eyes, her brows furrowed in thought.

His eyes never wandered from hers as he slipped the small golden ring onto her finger, watching her face to ensure she did not notice the movement. She did not.

Soon the dance ended and the girl tried to flee, but Damian caught her waist. "Wait. Why must you always run?"

The girl looked up at him with sadness in her eyes, blue as a clear spring morning. "Because I do not belong." She pulled herself from his grasp and fled.

* * *

Abbigail stood at the top of the stairs, clutching her chest. A tear slipped down her cheek. Her heart was pounding in her ears and it ached with longing. She wanted to race back upstairs and confess everything to Damian, but only her knowledge of royal laws  
and social rules kept her from pouring her heart out.

Wiping her tears, she escaped to her room. As she was about to unlace her dress, she heard a knock at her door.

"You in there girl?" Cook bellowed. "It's time to make the king his supper!"

Abbigail panicked. She threw her cloak over her dress and smudged her face. Pulling the hood over her hair, she grabbed the brooch. Cook stood outside her door a scowl on his face.

Hurrying to heat the soup up and toast the bread, Abbigail dropped the brooch in and handed the tray to a servant boy. Not two minutes later, her returned to bring her to the dining room. Damian sat, holding the brooch in his fingers.

After she curtsied, Damian stood and walked to her. "Give me your hands."

Abbigail tentatively held out her hands and started when Damian took them in his. Only then did she notice the gold ring on her right middle finger.

"It was you," Damian muttered, staring at her hands. "I knew it was you."

Abbigail hid her hands beneath her cloak. "What was me?" She asked dumbly.

"Don't lie to me Cat-skin. I know everything." Damian watched her eyes, his dark brows creased in the middle.

"It does not matter." Abbigail bowed her head and tried to flee. As she did, Damian grabbed her cloak and it fell to the floor. Abbigail stood, her heart stopping. Her sparkling dress shown in it's full glory. Her golden hair fell down her back and caressed her shoulders.

"I am so sorry, Damian," Abbigail stuttered. "I understand if you no longer want me to work in your kitchens. I will gather my things and leave."

As Abbigail turned to leave, her trembling hands buried in her skirts, Damian grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. His arm wrapped around her waist,his hand resting on her back. His other hand cupped her cheek tenderly. Abbigail stared at him,  
her heart skipping every other beat. Time slowed as his lips touched hers in a gentle kiss.

Damian pulled back and sighed, "I have been waiting so long to do that."

 **Yaaaaaay! So cute! ^-^ There will be a few more chapters, maybe two. Thank you everyone for the feedback and support! It means the world to me! THANK YOU! :3**


	19. Chapter 19

***bows head and clasps hands together above head* I'm soooooooooooooo sorry! Depression has been a nightmare and I've had to change medications. And with graduation coming up, life has been a hurricane. Thank you everyone who stuck with me through all of this! I have failed you! But enough about me, on with the story!**

Abbigail's heart had still not regained it's beat. Damian still cupped her cheeks tenderly, his fingers brushing under her chin. She could not take her eyes off of his lips, as not moments ago they had been touching hers. The memory brought a blush to her cheeks, making her ears turn fiery red.

"You only kissed me because I am Princess Abbigail," Abbigail muttered.

Damian balked. "You are Princess Abbigail?" He dropped his hands and buried them in his hair. "Oh, this is bad. This is very bad." Abbigail raised a dainty brow in confusion and Damian caught the look. "You were to wed your father. When he heard of my intentions, he was not happy. He will be even less happy this time."

It took a moment for Abbigail to remember what Damian's intentions were. Then she remembered his trip to her father's kingdom. Eyes widening, her jaw clenched. Then her mind blanked. This time? What did Damian mean by this time?

"This time?" Abbigail asked tentatively.

"Abbigail," Damian whispered, his expression becoming soft as he took her hands. A tingle raced down Abbigail's voice as he spoke her name. He'd never spoken it when he addressed her. "My intentions still stand. I still need a wife and my kingdom a queen." He raised his eyes to look into hers. He didn't need to say a word for Abbigail to know what he wanted.

She asked the one thing Damian did not want to hear. "What about Cat-skin?"

Squeezing her hands, Damian pulled her a step closer. "It does not matter if you are Cat-skin or Princess Abbigail. You are still you and that is all I care about."

Damian's words sprung tears to Abbigail's eyes. His eyes widening at the sight, Damian dropped her hands. "I apologize if I said something wrong. I-I-" His voice caught in his throat as Abbigail wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. They embraced for a moment before Abbigail pulled back.

"We must tell my father the news before it is announced by the church. If I did not, it would wound him deeply. After all, he is still my father."

A sense of trepidation hung over Damian, but he nodded none the less. A grin broke across his face as he squeezed Abbigail close. His heart was full to bursting. This was a new feeling to him, the feeling of fullness, yet still hollow. The hollowness did not hurt as the emptiness of his parents loss. All it did was emphasize how full his heart was. When Abbigail squeezed him back, burying her face in his tunic, the hollowness ebbed, leaving only the painful happiness, about to burst through his chest.

The couple stayed like that a long while, the servants having left long ago to give the two the privacy they deserved. They escaped down into the kitchens to spread the gossip like wildfire. Everyone knew before Abbigail returned to her quarters. A gathering of maids waited outside. Each began babbling nonsensically at the sight of her, grabbing at her hands and arms.

"One at a time, please," Abbigail pleaded.

"Is it true His Highness gave up his throne to be with you?" one of the younger girls asked. She had a hooked nose, but a romantic twinkle in her eye.

"No, he did not," Abbigail corrected.

An older maid elbowed her way past the first girl and asked, "I 'eard that ya been tossed out because you kept droppin' things in 'is soup."

"No, that is not true... well... it is a little," Abbigail explained.

"Are you madly in love?" a maid with black curly hair cried, clutching her hands to her chest, a wistful look in her eyes.

"Uh, well, you had best check your sources, ladies. I do not know what I am and am not allowed to divulge to you." Abbigail curtsied to the maids and they returned the gesture before scurrying off, giggling like mad.

Sighing, Abbigail entered her sparse little room and lay on her bed. She squeezed a pillow to her chest, the grin on her face causing her cheeks to ache and her heart to leap. Never once in her life had little Abbigail been so content and happy. But, oh how she wished her governess could be here to impart her motherly advice to the bride-to-be.

 **Only one more chapter guys! It will probably be a longer one, so keep your eyes peeled. Hopefully it won't be as long a wait as this one was. I am still so sorry about how long it took!  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**This is it! *the sound of soft sobs can be heard in the background* So far in my writing career this has been one of my favorites. Thank you everyone who has made this journey with me and who will read this after it's completion. This has been such a wonderful experience for me and if it weren't for all of your support, I may have given up a long time ago. Well, *sniffles* here it is.**

Abbigail sat on the bench in the gardens, the scent of snapdragons warm in the air bringing with it memories of days long past. Soft laughter echoes across the grass and into Abbigail's welcoming ears. It's the laughter of her daughter, Vivian. She is in her fifth year and strong and beautiful. She has her father's eyes and smile, but her mother's golden hair and beauty. The little girl came bounding to her mother's arms, followed by her father and governess.

"I'm sorry, your highness, but Princess Vivian has so much energy, she keeps getting away from me," the governess curtsied and grabbed Vivian's hand.

"No!" the girl cried.

"It is quite alright. She is like her father in that way." Abbigail stroked her daughter's head and looked lovingly into her eyes.

"I have not had boundless energy like her in many a year, love. I do wish I still did though," Damian laughed, sitting beside his wife.

"Every one has their day, and you, my love, had yours quite some time ago. And Vivian has yet to have hers."

Vivian climbed up onto the bench and looked at the snapdragons growing behind it.

"Those are called snapdragons, Vivian. They can talk, see." Abbigail pinches the sides of the bud to make the flower's mouth open and close. Vivian laughs and sticks her finger in the mouth.

"Be careful. They bite." Damian grabbed his daughter's hand suddenly, startling the poor girl to tears.

"Come here darling," Abbigail cooed, pulling her daughter into her arms. "Your father is a cruel man, I know."

Damian made a face. "I never knew you were a liar, Abbigail."

Abbigail grins, but squints her eyes. "Run along, darling. You must get back to your lessons." Wiping her daughter's tears, Abbigail helps Vivian onto the grass and watches her leave with her governess.

"She grows lovelier every passing day," Damian remarks.

Abbigail turns to him. "Do not tell me you will end up just like my father."

"I would never. My wife is the only lovely thing I need."

"Damian, I will not be around forever."

"That may be true," Damian said, pushing a blond lock behind Abbigail's ear, "but my love for you will."

Abbigail smiled. "A charmer as usual." She places a soft kiss to his cheek. "You should return to your duties, your highness."

Damian sighs. "If I must."

"I will join if that is any consolation."

"It is."

Damian takes his wife's hand in his and leads her through the garden and back into the castle.

* * *

King Eadric sat alone in his castle, the only company were his advisers and the stone walls. He knew of his daughter's marriage to that king and of their daughter. He was sure her beauty matched that of her mother's.

Regret filled the old king's heart. He had pushed his only family away until she no longer wanted to see him. If only he had not been so blinded by pain and heartbreak. Oh how he missed his wife. She was his light and his happiness. Without her he was nothing. Nothing but a broken king.

The old king had a thought then and pulled out a sheet of parchment. On it he wrote a letter.

 _My dearest Abbigail,_

 _Words can never express how sorry I am for pushing you away. I see now how blinded I was by the memory of your mother. There is not a day that goes by when I do not miss her with all my heart._

 _I hope you are happy in your life. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I was a foolish old man. In many ways I still am, but you are my only heir. I do not know what will happen to this kingdom without you. I hope we reconcile, if not for my sake, than for the people._

 _I love you daughter. I always have and always will._

 **Welp, that's it. I wanted to write about Abbigail and Damian's wedding, but it just didn't feel right, so I didn't. I might change it later, but I don't know. I'm sorry about the wait, but I wanted the ending to be as good as it could be. I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with this just yet, but I know this story deserves a proper ending. Thank you everyone who stuck with me all this time. I have some ideas for a sequel about Damian and Abbigail's daughter, but we'll have to see. Thanks again!**


End file.
